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strawburygrl feels
strawburygrl feels
you know what's funny? the 3rd manager here at the office. ok, it's not funny, just kind of amusing to those of us here at the office. he is 1/2 owner, a true computer geek, and he does not have a managerial bone in his body. i could sleep all day in my office & no one important would know, because the other 2 managers are gone today, and he would never tell them. that is, if he even came in here to notice!
why do i bring this up? because this is my first real day back in the office since... Wednesday? and, haha, i feel like crap. i just *love* this shit. NOT. felt just about fine this weekend, except for the end of our trail walk Sunday when my drugs ran out & i didn't have a way to take any more while we were up there. now this: double wammy of intense allergies & this weird nauseau or something like i ate something bad. let's just say that i'm feeling very lightheaded from the combo of too many trips to the bathroom & all the damn sneezing from my allergies. weeeeeeeeeeeee!
blfh. i'm not in pain (er, comparatively), so i'm gonna stick this shit out. it's gotta calm down sometime, right? RIGHT??? in the meantime, i think i'll just lay my head down for a bit, since my brain can't seem to comprehend what the hell to do next right now...
Mind you, I've believed for awhile that humanity's loathing of sharks is kind of like a witch hunt: ridiculously unfounded. But this summer the East Coast has been terrorized by sharks, and while that little boy a month or so ago survived his Bull Shark attack, this weekend's little boy did not, and neither did half of a couple that were swimming in Virginia. But these deaths only prompted them to pull the ads because they didn't want to be attacked as the messenger. Hello! Do you not understand sensitivity? And what the fuck? Since when is a 10 year old boy losing his arm a just punishment on the world's fishing industry killing sharks??? Yes, the article implies that they were going to launch the ad about losing an arm as just deserts, despite that kid last month losing his. And the wording implies they were going to unveil it so they could USE the publicity of him losing his arm. They only pulled it now that people have DIED this weekend. That's sick. I normally support PETA, but sometimes their shit gets outrageous. Like this.
Then there was the dream where me & my siblings & my dad followed my mom to her new job where she was getting training. And then it was time to go, and Dad put us on a shuttle to go to the parking lot. Well, he *thought* it went to the parking lot, but it went to SeaTac Airport! Ack! And it was monorail, so there wasn't anywhere to get off if there had been anyone to ask to let us out! So me & my Sis look around to pound the shit out of Dad for this, and he's not there! He put us on & then didn't come along! Damn, my blood was boiling! We got off at the airport & looked around for a taxi to take us back, all the while I was promising I was going to kill my father for this. In fact, I kind of promised my sister that I would shoot him when we found him, right in front of witnesses & stuff. That's one of my fears in real life. That I'll say something about how much I wish the man would just DIE, and then he will, and I'll be a suspect or something. Is it really so bad to wish death on someone so horrible to you? It's not like I would *do* anything about it. I can't even work up the guts to kill *myself* when I'm depressed, so what makes you think I could kill another person? Even if it is my father, rat-bastard of the universe? No, I'll just wait for nature to take it's course. And then jump up & down in glee when it finally happens, like I did with my grandpig! Yippie!
Um, one other bit of dream I remember finding that I had this bruise on my arm that *really* hurt. I put my finger against it to see what could have done it, when I realized that my fingers pretty much could match up to the bruise & 4 others. So someone had grabbed me very visciously, only I couldn't remember who or when or anything. Weird. But the weirdest was how much it *hurt*. That's something I don't remember ever experiencing in dreams before: pain.
Weird, but I used to maintain that although while I was in a dream I couldn't tell, once they were over I could say for sure it had been a dream. I realized this when I took a Philosophy class in college. Because I realized there were things that just didn't happen in my dreams. And then, one by one, they were proved wrong. Like my subconscious was laughing at me or something.
Myth #1: dreaming in black & white. I've *never* dreamed in black and white, so points for me I guess.
Myth #2: you can't read in dreams. For the longest time, I believed this. Until I took that philosphy class, realized I couldn't read in my dreams, and then within a few days I proceeded to read in my dreams. And my photographic memory was in full use during the dream. So I remembered what I had read. Talk about a fucking mind trip!
Myth #3: this was a personal myth. I had never dreamed I was asleep in a dream. You know how in Freddy Krueger movies, the people always dream they've woken up, when they haven't? I've never done that. Never thought about dreaming or sleeping or even beds in my dreams. Until I realized this. And held firmly to it. And used it as a way to know for sure that I was awake if I thought about going to sleep or dreaming. And then, WHAM! I dreamed about being tired & wanting to go to bed. I didn't actually go to sleep or wake up or dream in my dream, but I really wanted to go to sleep because I was really tired & I got pretty close to laying in the bed.
So now, I don't know how I'm supposed to tell I'm not dreaming. I guess you just kinda have to hope that you're not. That this isn't some sort of collective unconsciousness. I think, therefore I am. Y'know?
Anyway, I've never dreamed about pain before, so I thought I'd bring this stuff up. But I know other people do, so I guess it's not myth-shattering or anything.
Went to the gym yesterday, and it was great. I don't know why I'm fucked up today. Maybe from not enough sleep? I woke up when my husband did, and for some strange reason thought I had another hour to sleep, when in fact I only had 20 minutes, and I've been trying to recover ever since. Grr.
There was a cutie at the gym yesterday. I should use that as incentive to go to the gym. He was totally fine with dark hair and dark eyes, so perfectly chiseled that for a second I was about to roll my eyes at another FRAT BOY in the gym. Then I saw some piercings. Then as I was leaving, I saw some MORE piercings. Funny, but that made all my lusting ok. *sigh* I'm such a weirdo.
I wasn't doing this for you, my dear reader, or for my husband. I was doing it for me. I know that dwelling on memories don't do me very good, and writing about them makes me dwell on them even more, so I just wanted to just push it aside.
And I've been doing pretty good. But dammit all if his fucking songs weren't in my play list last week. As was Hooverphonic. Shit! And there's all this weird shit in another diary that's freaking me out how much it reminds me of him. Totally bizarre shit, I know, but I'm paranoid by nature, and that got me paranoid for awhile.
I'm paranoid for only short times though. It's just too... too much work & stress to be paranoid constantly. Akkam's Razor, the simplest explanation is the most likely. It is completely unlikely that this diary is secretly R. Geez, let it go already. And I did. It was a fleeting thought. Just like 15 seconds of my life.
What bugs me more is that it was even there to begin with. Argh. I shouldn't be thinking about him at all! I can barely remember much about why I cared about him, because I *don't* think about him. But I remember the feelings that he generated in me, and I kind of miss it. Miss all-hours chat sessions. The little sound icq made when he would message me. I still refuse to use icq because that sound is just too disturbing.
I don't want to have anything to do with him, really. But the other day I saw a web article that I thought he'd really enjoy and was contemplating how the hell I could send it to him without him freaking out thinking that I'm some sort of stalker.
So I try to just let these weird moments go. The paranoid musings. The musical reminders. The weird alien articles. But I have a pretty good memory. They pile up in the back of my mind, making themselves into 1 big issue. Until I just have to vent and yell, GO AWAY!!!!!!
You know, I think I feel better now. Hmm. I don't know if that means I should continue trying not to talk about him or what. But I just killed another 5 minutes at work! Woo-hoo!!!
